


The World's More Full of Weeping

by within_a_dream



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: (sort of), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Canon Era, Canonical Character Death, Changelings, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 16:58:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7114480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/within_a_dream/pseuds/within_a_dream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Éponine sets out to grant an ill-advised favor to Marius by delivering a letter to Cosette, and finds herself falling into the mystical Parisian underworld and falling in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The World's More Full of Weeping

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "The Stolen Child", by W. B. Yeats.
> 
> Accompanying (gorgeous) art by coldcigarettes [here!](http://coldcigarettes.tumblr.com/post/146422186486/fanart-for-the-fic-the-worlds-more-full-of)

Éponine hadn’t expected to see her.

She’d known, of course, that delivering a letter to Cosette’s house would put her at risk of seeing the girl, but she’d hoped that the man who’d taken her all those years ago would answer the door—or better yet, that they’d heard news of the coming rebellion and locked themselves inside, and that she could slide the note under the door and return to Marius.

Instead, a familiar face greeted her, as newly plump as Éponine was gaunt. A glimmer of something that could have been recognition flashed in her eyes, but it was soon replaced by a blank pleasantness. “Hello?”

“I’ve got a letter for you, from your Marius.”

Cosette took the letter and waited, her hand on the door.

“I was told to wait for a reply,” Éponine said.

“Is it so urgent as that?”

“Haven’t you heard?” She grinned. “The city’s taken up arms. Your sweetheart is like as not marching to the barricades.”

The letter crumpled in Cosette’s hand. “You have to take me there.”

Oh, hell. “I’m just the messenger. He didn’t pay me near enough to escort you through Paris.”

She set her jaw; the determination should have looked out of place on her sweet, soft, face, but it didn’t. “Then I’ll find my own way to him.”

Oh, _hell_. “You’ll need to take that dress off.” She rolled her eyes at the color coming to Cosette’s cheeks. “Do you think no one will notice a girl walking through the streets in clothes like that? Strip down to your shift, and I’ll find you some trousers.”

A noise inside made Cosette start. She glanced over her shoulder, then began to shut the door. “My father’s coming; can we meet behind the house, in the garden?”

Éponine nodded, and began to make her way around the house, being careful to stay in the shadows. True to her word, Cosette appeared at the window soon after Éponine had crept into the garden behind the house, looking terribly exposed in only her shift, which was drifting in the wind. She clambered down to the garden via the tree branch that brushed her balcony, and Éponine tried desperately not to stare at the stretch of Cosette’s calf that was revealed as the tree caught at her skirt.

She grabbed at Éponine’s arm when she jumped to the ground, fingers slim and cool. When Éponine didn’t move, Cosette tugged at her arm. “If we don’t hurry, Papa will see us.”

“Of course.” She shook her head, hoping to clear these ridiculous thoughts from her mind. “I’ve a friend close to the barricades.”

 

Jean-Claude knew by now to answer when she knocked. “Have you ruined the clothes I lent you already?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll return them unharmed. But I’ve a friend who needs another pair.”

He saw Cosette, and raised his eyebrows. “And what am I to do with a shift?”

He hadn’t asked what he would do with a ragged chemise and skirt, but Éponine didn’t mention that. “Perhaps Guillaume could make use of it.”

Jean-Claude laughed. “If he were here, he’d be sure to tell you that between the two of us, I wear the skirts.” He looked at Cosette again. “At least she’s not all skin and bones like you. She might even be able to fit into the trousers without a belt.”

He dug out another pair of trousers and a jacket, and Éponine led Cosette into the bedroom to change.

Her fingers fumbled over the laces, but Cosette didn’t seem to notice. She also didn’t notice the way Éponine’s gaze drifted down the planes of her back, or the way her hands lingered on Cosette’s waist. (Or perhaps she did, and was polite or innocent enough to ignore it.)

She knew before putting it on that just the shirt wouldn’t do, that not even a heavy jacket could properly cover up Cosette’s breasts and the swell of her hips.  “You look like a woman.”

Cosette goggled at her. “I _am_ a woman!”

“Yes, and so anyone looking for you tonight will keep their eyes open for a pretty young thing like yourself. Here, take that corset off.”

Cosette wasn’t shy about stripping down in front of Éponine, although she kept glancing at the door, then looking away relieved when she found it still closed. Éponine wondered if she should set the girl straight on who was more likely to ravish her, but decided that might be too many scandals for Cosette to handle in one night.

But oh, it was difficult to keep her hands innocent as she wound the cloth around Cosette’s chest. Éponine had hated Cosette, and Cosette likely still hated Éponine, would turn against her as soon as she recognized her. Still, all Éponine wanted was to kiss her perfect pink lips, run her fingers through her smooth brown curls, slip a hand down the trousers that clung to her thighs so tightly…

It was better not to let the fantasies get that far. She would take Cosette to the barricades to find her sweetheart, because she would do anything for these good people she loved, good people who barely knew she existed. Then she would do her best to survive, as she always did.

 

The streets were quiet, until they weren’t. Éponine preferred the echoes of gunshots and cannons to the eerie quiet that smothered the rest of the city—at least then she had a reason to be nervous. Cosette, on the other hand, wandered fearlessly through the silent alleyways, not becoming skittish until she began to hear the gunfire. What it must be like, to trust so blindly in a woman you’d just met that you would follow her to hell and trust that no harm would come to you.

Cosette tugged at Éponine’s sleeve, and pointed to another empty alleyway. “Have you noticed that fellow in the cart? He’s followed us from your friend’s rooms.”

She searched for some sign of a joke in Cosette’s face, but she seemed entirely serious. “There’s no one there.”

“What are you talking about? His cloak is so white it seems to glow, and I can barely hear myself think over the squeaking of the wheels.”

“Cosette, there’s no one there.”

Éponine would look back on this night and wonder what would have happened if they hadn’t reached Marius’s barricade just then. As she learned later, it was the only barricade, but then it was still Marius’s to her. Thank the Lord, they’d come across it during a ceasefire. Éponine grinned when she recognized the boy atop the barricade, and waved to him. Her grin faded as she took in the bloodstain on his shirtfront.

Cosette grabbed her arm once again. “Do you know that boy?”

“He was my brother.” The _was_ stabbed her through the heart.

“He’s taking him—the man in the white shroud. Shouldn’t we help him? God, we can’t just stand here!”

Éponine slapped her across the face. “He’s dead! He was my brother, and he’s dead, and I don’t have time for your nonsense!”

A hand locked around her wrist, and Éponine tried and failed to tug her arm away before she realized it wasn’t Cosette’s hand.

“You shouldn’t shout like that,” the stranger said, a grin stretching her wrinkled face.

“And who are you to tell me not to shout?” Cosette was staring at the old woman like she was a monster, but Éponine didn’t see anything so fearsome about her.

“If you’d like to survive the night, you’ll listen to me.”

As if on cue, the bullets began to fly once again. The woman pulled Éponine down an alley, and Cosette followed mutely, face white as bone.

“I need a job done.”

Éponine raised an eyebrow, ignoring Cosette’s increasingly panicked looks in her direction. “I don’t work for free.”

“You’ll like my wages.” She opened her hand to reveal a shimmering pool of gold coins. “What do you desire, my darling? Money? Family? True love?”

Éponine snatched at the coins, which seemed to evaporate under her fingers. “How are you doing that?”

Her grin was wide and suspiciously white. “There’s so much more to the world than you’ve seen.”

“Don’t promise her anything,” Cosette whispered, and although Éponine had thought her foolish, she began to wonder if perhaps she had a point.

The woman turned to Cosette next. “And what is it that worries _you_ , little lark? The man you call Papa, perhaps?”

Her eyes narrowed and her fists clenched, showing an anger Éponine hadn’t thought her capable of. “If you lay a hand on him, I’ll…I’ll…”

“I’m afraid his fate is out of my hands.” The woman’s smile stretched wider. “But let me lay out the terms of the contract, dear. I’d like you to fetch me an item. Just one thing. In exchange, I can promise you that you’ll see your father before the year is out. And as for your friend here, if she’s willing to help you, she’ll never again go to bed on an empty stomach, or without a roof over her head.”

Cosette glanced at Éponine. “Are you willing?”

Éponine wasn’t sure what kind of payment these vague promises would get her, but she was beginning to feel it might be wise to say whatever was necessary to get away from this woman. “I am.”

The woman took both their hands, and something seemed to burn into Éponine’s palm. She jerked her arm away, looking for what the woman had marked her with, only to find that her skin was smooth as it had been before.

“Now,” the woman said, ducking into a corner that Éponine could swear hadn’t been there when they’d begun their conversation, “follow me.”

Éponine had thought herself familiar with every inch of Paris, but she’d never seen the streets that the woman led them down before. The buildings seemed to loom in on them, tilted at unnatural angles, and the only light was an eerie greenish glow from scattered windows. She couldn’t help but notice the way Cosette kept her eyes firmly on the ground beneath her feet, stubbornly avoiding lifting her head. On any other night, with any other company, Éponine would have thought her foolish for failing to keep an eye on her surroundings, but tonight she’d seen enough to wonder if Cosette had the right idea.

After what seemed an eternity of walking through the narrow alleys, they came to a stop in front of a dirt-covered staircase. The woman walked down it, and Cosette and Éponine exchanged a wary glance before following her.

The interior was bigger than it ought to be, with roots creeping down its dirt walls and furniture which seemed to blend seamlessly with the walls. The woman took a seat on a rickety chair, gesturing for the two of them to follow suit.

“There are many souls in flight through the city tonight. I’d like you to fetch one for me.”

Éponine looked at her blankly, but Cosette seemed to understand. “How?”

The woman took a rough stone orb from the table beside her. “This will help. Take it to the Pont au Change tomorrow night—you’ll know what you do once you arrive.”

“And how are we to return it to you?” As soon as she spoke, Éponine had the feeling that she ought to have kept silent.

The woman grinned that unsettling grin, and said, “You’ll find your way back to me. And before you leave, dear, I’ll have to open your eyes.”

When she’d begun to look to Cosette as her measure of reason, Éponine didn’t know, but it comforted her somewhat to see that Cosette didn’t seem worried at the prospect of this mysterious eye-opening. So Éponine complied when the woman gestured for her to bend her head backwards, and held still while a few drops of a cool liquid were poured into her eyes.

She blinked the excess away, and when she opened her eyes again, the room seemed to glow so brightly it hurt to look. Through her narrowed eyes, Éponine could see something deeply wrong with the woman. Her face seemed to shift between that of the woman they had followed here tonight and something that Éponine couldn’t describe except in the vaguest of terms: ancient, horrible, powerful.  She opened her mouth to speak, and Cosette grabbed her arm and began to pull her towards the door, hissing, “Hush!”

“You’ll want this.” The woman handed Éponine a bottle of the mysterious water, and Cosette the stone.

“Thank you, madame.” Cosette moved from the room as quickly as she could without running, and Éponine followed suit.

As soon as they reached the street, Éponine’s questions came tumbling out. “Who _was_ she? What happened to me? Did you see that horrible glowing? And her _face_ …”

Cosette sunk down against the nearest wall, still holding the stone in her trembling hands. “I’m not certain. Ever since I was little, I’ve been able to see things others can’t. Whatever she gave to you, it must have made you see the world the same way. I think it would be best to do as she says.”

Éponine could remember Cosette as a child, with her snarled hair and ragged clothes, huddled in a corner hiding from things that neither Éponine nor Azelma could see, leaving some of the little food their parents gave her on the front step ‘for her friends’. “We have a day before we can follow her orders. It would probably be best to get some sleep.”

They wandered through the strange streets until Éponine passed a corner she recognized. Then she led Cosette back towards Jean-Claude and Guillaume’s. The fastest route led past the barricade, but once they reached it, Éponine saw she needn’t have been concerned for their safety. The gunshots had fallen silent, and only corpses still stood guard.

A flash of movement caught Éponine’s eye, and she let out a scream when she saw the man clothed in white pulling a cart piled high with corpses.

“Don’t look at him,” Cosette whispered. “He won’t harm us if we don’t look at him.”

Éponine ran past the barricade, Cosette following close behind. Once they were out of earshot (or at least, what she hoped was out of earshot—God only knew how far that man could hear), she turned to Cosette.

“I’m sorry. For not believing you.”

Cosette ran a finger over her cheek, a ghost of a smile spreading across her face. “You’re certainly not the first.”

Éponine could tell from her eyes that Cosette knew exactly who she was. It seemed foolish, now, that she’d ever thought the girl would forget. “That doesn’t make it right.” She returned Cosette’s bitter smile. “My friends will give us a place to sleep for the night, if we hurry and catch them before they fall asleep themselves.”

Cosette followed her willingly enough, but once Jean-Claude had let them inside, she began to look increasingly nervous.

“Where did you go?” he said, looking their clothes up and down. “Have you been rolling around in the banks of the Seine?”

“Something like that,” Éponine said, grinning at him. “I’ll wash the clothes myself, if you’re worried about that.”

“You know we’re only ever worried about you,” Guillaume said, not even able to keep from laughing at his affected sweetness until he finished the sentence.

“I assume we can take the spot near the oven.”

“Only the best for you, ‘Ponine.” Jean-Claude tipped an imaginary hat. “I’ll fetch a blanket.”

It wasn’t until they were alone by the fire, with Jean-Claude and Guillaume asleep in the bedroom, that Cosette began talk. “Are you sure it’s safe to sleep here?”

Had this been anyone else lying beside her, Éponine would have rolled over and ignored the question. But given what they’d been through together and what they’d likely have to endure, she thought it might be best to keep her rudeness to a minimum. “I’m certain. Jean-Claude and Guillaume are more interested in each other than in women, if you catch my meaning.”

Cosette’s mouth rounded into a perfect _o_. “I…I see. Good night, then.”

“G’night.” She hadn’t been entirely honest with Cosette—Guillaume had been known to consort with the occasional woman, although he was more or less faithful to Jean-Claude now. But the obstacle she presented was a bit more believable than her assertion of her friends’ good character. They were _her_ friends, after all; how trustworthy could they be?

In any case, Cosette seemed reassured by Éponine’s words. She fell asleep soon after, and the noises that she made while sleeping were so endearing that Éponine wanted nothing more than to smother her so as to put an end to these ridiculous feelings. How she could bear one more night of sleeping by Cosette’s side, she didn’t know.

Éponine dragged herself out of bed early the next morning, although she knew all that waited for her was a long day of loafing around the apartment before setting out for the Pont au Change at twilight. She let Cosette sleep, not quite cruel enough to deprive the girl of sleep the same way she’d deprived Éponine.

Jean-Claude (usually in the habit of tramping around his rooms like a mule in the morning) snuck out of bed quietly, looking at Cosette curled up near the stove with something like reverence in his eyes. “Where did you find her, Éponine?”

 _We grew up together_ , she wanted to say. _She came out of our childhood with a father and fancy dresses, and I came out like this, and I’m still not sure if it makes up for what my family did to her._ Instead, she grinned and said, “You know I’ve always had a way with women.”

She could see he didn’t believe her, but he knew better than to press. “Be careful with her.”

“You’ve never had such concern for _me_ before, Jean-Claude. Should I be jealous?”

“Be careful, only. Not everyone is as hard as you.”

From what she’d seen last night, Éponine was the one who needed to fear for her safety, but she didn’t relish the idea of explaining that to Jean-Claude. She nodded. “I’m always careful.”

 

Cosette woke up just in time for supper. Éponine had expected her to turn up her nose at the sparse table Guillaume had set, but she devoured the food as if it were a grand feast. Éponine found herself reminded of the many meals they’d spent together as children, Cosette scavenging what scraps she could, and wondered how long it would take for memories such as those to fade.

“This is delicious,” she told the men, in response to their questioning looks.

Guillaume grinned. “I much prefer Cosette’s company to yours, ‘Ponine. She appreciates my culinary skills.”

“The only ‘culinary skill’ you have is an uncanny ability to turn a perfectly good porridge inedible.” Éponine was taken aback when Cosette snorted. She’d expected a more delicate laugh, assuming Cosette deigned to laugh at her jokes at all.

“Inedible is a bit harsh,” she said, still choking back laughter. “I’ve certainly eaten worse.”

“See?” Guillaume shot a pointed glare at Éponine. “Much kinder than you.”

“You’ll regret complimenting him,” Éponine said to Cosette, for a moment forgetting all of her worries about their relationship. “He’ll never let any of us hear the end of it.”

“Oh, you wound me!” Guillaume gave an exaggerated swoon, and managed to tumble right out of his chair. Cosette laughed even harder at that, and Éponine couldn’t help but join in. He stumbled to his feet, glaring at all three of them. “Laugh at my pain, would you?”

Jean-Claude gave him a shove, trying in vain to put on a serious expression. “This is a dinner table, not a theatre, dear.”

It seemed a shame, after all of that, to venture out onto the dark Parisian streets in search of some nebulous trophy for that horrid woman. Éponine couldn’t help but feel that once she stepped outside, she’d be walking into a newer, more dangerous world, leaving her old life behind. She didn’t much like the concept of a world where women could conjure up handfuls of gold out of thin air, and streets could appear and disappear at the turn of a hat. Then again, as like the rest of her life, it seemed she didn’t have much choice in the matter.

The streets outside were not as she remembered them. There were buildings out of place, strange lights in the windows of long-abandoned rooms, and all too many flickers of motion to set her on edge.

Cosette, who must have seen Éponine’s nervousness, took her hand. “They won’t harm you if you don’t look at them,” she said. “And even then, most will leave you alone. But there’s enough that don’t like to be seen to make keeping your head down worth your while.”

Éponine swiped at her eyes, wishing she could wash away whatever blasted sight the woman had given her. She’d already lost so much—it was bitterly unfair that this misadventure had taken away her only sense of home as well. _Since when has life been fair to you, you silly girl?_ After all this time, another slap in the face from Lady Fate shouldn’t have surprised her.

Despite the strange creatures roaming the streets, she managed to lead them safely to Pont au Change. The sun had long ago set, but they were alone on the bridge. And then, in the blink of an eye, they weren’t. A man was perched on the rail, swaying back and forth and staring into the water below.

“We should help him!” Éponine hissed. Cosette shushed her, and in a moment, Éponine saw why—he was flickering in and out of existence like a flame in the wind.

“This is who we’ve been sent to find,” Cosette whispered. She held up the stone they’d been given, and it began to glow. The man on the bridge turned to look at her, a bone-deep sadness in his eyes.

“Are you here for me?” His voice made Éponine shudder—it was cold, wet, and not quite human.

Cosette nodded. “I’m sorry, monsieur.”

Éponine was about to ask what she was apologizing for when a terrible beam of light emerged from the stone, shooting straight towards the man on the bridge. It drew him in, stretching the outline of his body as he disappeared into its surface. In a few moments, he was gone.

“What have we done?” It might be better not knowing, but Éponine couldn’t help but ask.

  “I think…I think that was a soul.” Cosette looked down at the stone in her hand, shuddering. “I’ve seen men and women before, trapped on Earth after they’ve died. What someone would need with a human soul…”

“Well, we’ve made a bargain.”

Cosette nodded resolutely. “I suppose we don’t have a choice.”

 

An alleyway opened up for them once again, and they followed it to the woman’s house. Cave? It certainly looked different now that Éponine’s eyes had been opened. The roots winding along the walls writhed, and faces seemed to leer out at her from the dirt. “Don’t look at them,” she whispered to herself, and kept her eyes firmly locked on the stone in Cosette’s hands.

“Oh, excellent!” The woman grinned, her teeth unsettlingly sharp. She stretched out her hand, but Cosette’s grip on the stone held firm.

“Tell me what happened to my father.”

Anger flashed through the woman’s eyes, as well as something like fear. “We had an agreement, dear.”

“Tell me!” Her shout seemed to shake the walls.

The woman staggered back. “The man you call Papa was at the barricade that night. Didn’t you see him? He was looking for that sweetheart of yours—Marius, was it? He was willing to give anything to save the man you love, my girl.”

“The letter,” Cosette whispered. “Oh, Papa, no.”

“Now, give me back what’s mine. I’ve been more than fair with you.”

Cosette relinquished the stone, and then looked up at the woman. “Did you kill him?”

“He left the barricade alive. You’ll have to seek him out if you wish to know more.”

A small bit of color returned to Cosette’s pallid face. She fled the room as fast as she was able, Éponine barely managing to keep up with her. “I left the letter on my bedroom floor,” she said, the guilt in her voice painful to hear. “I should have told him where I was going, I should have—”

“He’s a grown man. I’m sure he managed to take care of himself.” Éponine took Cosette’s hand. “I could take you by your house, if you want to check in on him.”

“Oh, would you?” She looked at Éponine with entirely too much gratitude. “I’ve no idea where we are, or how to get home.”

 

Éponine had expected Cosette to run inside and back to her father’s arms once they arrived, but she stayed in the shadows, peering through a window. The tension left her shoulders, and Éponine could tell she’d spotted her father.

“Shouldn’t you talk to him?”

This inspired such a look of terror on Cosette’s face that Éponine immediately regretted asking. “Éponine, I’m filthy. I’m in trousers, and I haven’t combed my hair in days. I’ll have to explain to him where I’ve been, and I’m not sure I can. Not yet.”

She nodded her understanding. “It’s late. We ought to head towards…” Éponine wasn’t sure where. Neither of them had a home any longer, and it seemed wrong to impose on Jean-Claude and Guillaume another night. “Well. We ought to go somewhere, unless you’d like to sleep here outside the window.”

Éponine’s steps seemed to have a mind of their own, leading them both to a building that it seemed right to enter, somehow. Up the stairs was a warm, welcoming room, with the key laid out on a table near the door.

Éponine looked to Cosette, wary. Before she could voice her question, however, Cosette answered it: “This is our payment. The woman, she promised that you’d always have a roof over your head. Well, here’s your roof for the night.”

It was more than just a roof—the cupboards were fully stocked, a stack of firewood stood beside the stove, and the closet was filled with clothes that looked to be exactly her size. It sent a shiver through her, that there was a being out there in the city who could bring a room forth at will. Unless it had belonged to someone else before they’d arrived, which left the question of what had happened to this previous owner—better to imagine it had been created just for them, for the woman didn’t seem to have any qualms about ending human lives.

“We should sleep,” Cosette said, yawning.

There was only one bed. “I’ll take the chair near the stove,” Éponine said.

“Don’t be silly—there’s plenty of room for both of us.”

It seemed right, to ruin whatever the events of the past two days had built up between them by telling Cosette everything. “It wouldn’t be proper.” From the blank look on Cosette’s face, Éponine could tell she’d have to explain. “I’ve lain with women, you see, and I wouldn’t want to take advantage.”

“Oh.” Cosette flushed a brilliant red. “If you’re certain, then.”

It wasn’t any more restful of a night than the last had been. The chair was small, and Éponine was all too aware of how near Cosette was, how easy it would have been to swallow her tongue and spend another night with her. Who did she think she was, growing a conscience after all this time? She’d never be a good person, no matter how she tried.

 

Cosette slept long past morning, although once again Éponine couldn’t bring herself to wake her. Instead, she set about frying up the eggs she’d found in the larder, and soon enough, the smell woke Cosette.

“Should we return your friends’ clothes?” she asked, voice still hoarse from sleep. “I don’t think we have much need of them now.”

Éponine glanced at the wardrobe, which had been stocked with trousers as well as dresses. “I suppose you’re right. Get dressed, have some breakfast—more like lunch, at this point—and we’ll leave.” She rolled her eyes when Cosette hesitated to get up, and spun around to face the corner. “I won’t peek, I promise.”

Their meal was silent, as was the walk across town. Éponine breathed a silent sigh of relief when the familiar building came into sight. Guillaume had a way of erasing tensions, and if anyone could melt through the icy wall between her and Cosette, it would be him.

It was Jean-Claude who answered the door, eyes bloodshot and hair mussed. “Where have you been, ‘Ponine? It’s been a week!”

She and Cosette, forgetting their tensions in the confusion, exchanged a look. _A week_? That would put them in that strange cellar for six nights…something that Éponine wouldn’t put past the horrid witch who’d called them there, come to think of it. “There were some complications with my pay. What’s happened?”

He gestured for them to come inside, sinking onto a chair. “Guillaume’s dead.”

“What?”

“Pierre found him drowned in the Bievre. There was lipstick on his—” He cut off, choking back a sob. “We think he kissed someone soon before he drowned. And I know we wasn’t always faithful, but he wasn’t the first man they’ve found in the river like this, Éponine. Some of them wouldn’t never have…there’s something wrong in this city.”

He looked at Éponine with a desperate hope in his eyes, and she shook her head. “I’m truly sorry you’ve lost him like this, Jean-Claude. It breaks my heart. But if you think there’s a crime here, you go to the gendarmes.”

“And have them tell me they don’t have time for people like us?” He scowled. “I’d go myself, but whoever catches this killer needs to be capable of a fair impression of a man looking for women.”

She sighed. “You’re lucky I’m so soft-hearted. I’ll give you two nights on the banks of the Bievre, and let you know if I find anything. And…let me know if there’s anything else you need. I’m doing well enough that I can bring you food if you need.”

She leaned over to let him embrace her. “You’re an angel.”

“You must have had a hard life, if you’re mistaking me for an angel.” Éponine kissed his forehead. “Take care of yourself, all right? I’ll see what I can find.”

It wasn’t until they stepped outside and Cosette began to speak that Éponine realized she’d kept deathly silent this whole time. “It’s not a woman, attacking these men. It’s something far more dangerous.”

Éponine didn’t ask how she knew. “Do you know how to hurt it?”

“I haven’t even seen what it is yet!” Cosette snapped. Then she shook her head, taking a breath before going on. “Whatever it is, most of these creatures don’t like iron. We’ll need a dagger, iron or steel. Other than that, it depends.”

“I suppose I shouldn’t ask how you know that.”

Cosette smiled faintly. “Your mother gave me a sword to play with, if you remember. Not much to look at, but it kept the monsters away.”

Éponine remembered Cosette swinging her sword at the air, trying to cut the heads off flies. How had she missed so much? “I’ve a few knives I can fetch. You’ll want to wait at the apartment.”

“Don’t you think I can handle the darker corners of Paris by now?”

Cosette’s stubborn frown made Éponine wince. “I don’t think you’d like this particular dark corner. I’m going home—to my parents.”

“Oh.” With the way Cosette’s face sunk, Éponine almost wished she hadn’t told her the truth about her destination. “Yes, I suppose your suggestion would be better, then.”

 

She hated to leave Cosette alone—the mention of Éponine’s parents had driven her into a deep sadness, and Éponine felt rather guilty about it. She wasn’t accustomed to guilt, and she wasn’t sure she liked the precedent this had set. She had enough work keeping herself alive, much less this girl who was half bourgeois-soft, half hard-as-nails.  In any case, it was looking more and more like Éponine wouldn’t be able to survive without Cosette, so perhaps it would be better to accept their strange new codependency.

She’d never felt safe with her parents, but today their filthy rooms seemed particularly foreboding. Shadows played at the corners of her eyes, and she was afraid to look too closely at the apartment’s dark corners. Still, the movement near the beds (or what passed as beds) drew her eye, and she couldn’t help but gasp at the wrinkled green creature huddled there.

“Where’ve you been?”

Éponine tore her eyes from the creature to glare at her mother. “Out.”

She wasn’t bothered by her daughter’s rudeness. Madame Thenardier (if she even deserved the honorific) rarely was. “Probably out with some man, weren’t you? Well, get your money’s worth from him, ‘Ponine. Don’t let him take it all for nothing in return.”

Éponine crept closer to her quilts to find her knives, studiously avoiding the stares of both her mother and the creature. But her quest drew her close enough that she couldn’t avoid looking at it entirely, and it grinned at her, showing a mouthful of rotten teeth.

She slipped the blades she’d come for into her belt, and prepared to leave. A nagging worry stopped her at the door.

“Where’s my sister?”

Her mother shrugged. “Out with your father, most like. He’s got some scheme that needs a pretty face.”

Azelma’s face had long ago ceased to be pretty, but Éponine had no doubt that she was the best her father could get. She turned over several responses in her mind ( _Tell her I asked after her, You tell him to keep his hands off her, I’m coming back in a week and I swear if she isn’t here for me to collect--_ ) before deciding it would be better not to say anything at all. It had been all she could do to tear herself away from the endless sucking maw of the Thenardier family. Éponine would have to finish saving herself before she could save her sister.

(The image of Gavroche’s lifeless body flashed before her eyes, and guilt stabbed her in the gut. _That wasn’t my fault. I can’t save them all._ ) She dashed out the door before any more inconvenient guilt could grab her, ignoring her mother’s calls after her.

 

Cosette looked at Éponine far too pityingly when she arrived back at the apartment. Éponine had to fight back the perverse wish to do something to erase that pity and replace it with hate. _I never pitied you, when Mother tormented you. What gives you the right to pity me?_

She shook off the anger, and flashed the blades at Cosette. “Will these do?”

Cosette’s eyes widened. “I _think_ they should. This isn’t much less new to me than it is to you.”

“I promise not to blame you if I’m killed by the magical murderer stalking the banks of the Bievre.”

She laughed at that, and Éponine found herself breaking into laughter as well. Despite everything that lay between them, she still found herself drifting into comfort with Cosette. To be truthful, it frightened her. At some point Cosette would remember who Éponine was and run away, and Éponine would be alone again. She’d seen the fear spring up in Cosette’s eyes too many times already, like a bird flittering away from passersby.

“Are you so sure that the creature won’t be killing me?”

Éponine laughed even harder at that. “Well, it’s only killed men so far, and you couldn’t pass as a man to save your life. I, at least, make an adequate boy.” She hadn’t expected the look of concern on Cosette’s face. “You’ll come with, of course, and I have no doubt you’ll be able to defend me if it comes down to that.”

Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but Éponine could swear she saw Cosette stealing glances at her as she donned her trousers. Even if it wasn’t, Cosette couldn’t be staring at her out of desire. Éponine knew full well that there was nothing about her scrawny, scarred body that could appeal to Cosette. She was all skin and bones and bitterness, and if she didn’t tamp down on this foolish longing, it would be the death of her.

“You do make a handsome man.” Cosette toyed with the cuff of her sleeve, looking everywhere but at Éponine. “Much more so than I would be.”

“But you make a handsomer woman,” Éponine replied, only a little bitterly.

“Some would argue with that.” At Éponine’s doubtful look, Cosette continued. “I think you’re beautiful.”

Kissing Cosette was not how Éponine had thought this night would begin, but she couldn’t say she minded. Cosette didn’t have much finesse, but there was something thrilling about the innocence behind every movement of her lips. Éponine had just begun to wonder why she was thinking so intently about this when Cosette let out a little gasp and distracted her entirely.

Éponine only managed to lose herself for a few moments before she remembered what they had been about to do. “We ought to leave, it’s almost dusk.”

Cosette looked endearingly heartbroken about that. “I suppose you’re right.”

“We’ll have time once we get back,” Éponine said, grinning. Cosette blushed and nodded.

The walk to the river passed in a fog, and Éponine had entirely too much difficulty pulling herself back to the task at hand rather than drifting into the heady world of new love. For God’s sake, Cosette was hardly the first person she’d kissed, and she had more important concerns than a new lady love.

The gradual growth of the Bievre’s unmistakable odor pulled her out of her reverie. The tanneries and butcher-shops that lined its banks, not to mention the waste from the tenements, made her head spin for an entirely different reason.

Cosette wrinkled her nose, but (to Éponine’s surprise) didn’t complain of the smell. Instead, she looked to Éponine and asked, “Where should I wait for you?”

“Stay to the alleys.” Éponine gestured to the streets winding back from the river’s banks. “I’ll walk near the water and see if I can’t find our killer.”

It was an hour of pacing at least before Éponine saw anyone save herself and Cosette. One minute, the narrow path beside the river had been empty; the next, a woman sat on its edge, dangling her feet into the water.

“You’ll want to stay away from the river, mademoiselle. All sorts of nasty things in there.”

The woman pushed herself up and grinned. “I’ve seen nastier things on the streets. What are you looking for, monsieur?”

“I’ve found you, so nothing anymore.”

The woman grinned, teeth looking just a bit too sharp. “I know why you’re here. And I know you’re no man looking for an easy lay.” Her fingers locked around Éponine’s arm, although Éponine couldn’t remember her getting close enough to touch. “Now drop your weapon, cherie.”

She let her knife clatter to the ground. “You’re not just killing men looking for a lay, are you?”

The woman laughed, a sound like crashing waves. “I’m killing the men who have spent their lives fouling my home.” She gestured to the river, and when Éponine looked closer, she could see that her captor was looking steadily less human. Her skin had taken on a distinctly blue tint, and gills lined her neck. “They fill the river with piss and blood and garbage, and when the smell begins to bother them, they wall it over and leave us to suffocate.”

“The men you’re killing have nothing to do with that.” The woman’s fingernails had begun to draw blood, and Éponine tried in vain to pull her arm away. “We’re trapped here in the filth the same as you are.”

“And you still dump your shit in my river.”

"And you plan on killing everyone in the city?"

"Oh, no," she replied, voice laced with bitterness. "There's far too many of you for that. You breed like rabbits, choking the life out of everyone else in this fate-forsaken city. I had sisters, you know. There were dozens of us, and now I'm alone. I held my clutchmate in my arms as she choked on the foul mess you've made of the water."

The next thing she knew, the woman had thrown Éponine to the ground. The brick of the street sent a sharp pain through her head, and before she could catch her breath, the woman's clammy fingers were wrapped around her neck.

"We can help you!" Éponine gasped, and when she saw the glimmer in the woman's eyes she realized her mistake.

"We?"

As Éponine struggled to explain, her head spinning from lack of air, the woman gasped, a stream of blue-green flowing down her neck. It took Éponine a moment to recognize it as blood.

Cosette pulled the woman off of her, sliding the blade between her ribs. The woman fell backwards onto Cosette, clutching at her chest and gasping. Cosette held her, wide-eyed and terrified, as she began to dissolve. Her limbs went first, bubbling up and fading into a dirty foam. Soon, Cosette was left covered in the bubbling remnants of what had once been, if not a human, a living creature. She sat up, dropped the blood-covered knife, and began to sob.

Éponine walked her home, thankful that these creatures didn’t bleed red. Perhaps it looked strange to see a scrawny boy walking a finely-dressed woman home through one of Paris’s roughest neighborhoods, her skirt covered in river foam, but it would have looked a hell of a lot worse had Cosette’s dress been stained with blood.

To her credit, Cosette managed to choke back her tears until they were behind closed doors. (Éponine knew it was unfair to expect Cosette to be weak; they shared the same upbringing, after all. She also couldn’t shake the petty jealousy that kept Cosette framed as weak in her mind, even after everything they’d shared.) Éponine fetched her a pitcher of water and helped her slip off her filthy dress.

“She was screaming,” Cosette whispered, holding the wet rag Éponine had offered her limply. “Every bit of her body was screaming, and she’s still _there_ , stuck to me.”

“Let me help you wash it off?”

Cosette nodded, and whispered, “Please.”

Éponine wiped away the foam on her face first, then brushed a hand against her now-clean cheek. She moved the cloth down Cosette’s neck, and Cosette arched into the touch, lips parting slightly. Éponine sent a silent question with her eyes, afraid that asking out loud would break the spell.

“Kiss me,” Cosette said, voice wavering. “Or…or touch me, or fuck me, or anything to help me forget.”

Any other night, Éponine would have laughed at Cosette’s attempts at vulgar language. Tonight, she dabbed at the grit clinging to Cosette’s chest, then dropped the rag and cupped Cosette’s breast in her hand, brushing her nipple through her shift.

“I won’t do this if you’re just looking for someone to make you forget,” Éponine said. “If that’s what you’re after, you can go find someone else to get you off.”

“I don’t want someone else,” Cosette whispered, and under the shake of fear and exhaustion, Éponine could hear the desire in her voice. She could almost believe that Cosette wanted _her_ , if she hadn’t learned time and time again that no one wanted Éponine in particular. Not her parents, not Marius, not the crowd she ran with, and certainly not Cosette of the perfect curls and perfect curves and perfect look of pleasure as she caught her lower lip in her teeth.

She shook off her thoughts, focusing on the moment at hand. “You’re wearing too much.”

Cosette blushed, letting Éponine tug her shift off. Then she took her hands to Éponine’s clothing, ridding her of her jacket before Éponine grew impatient and forced Cosette to the ground with a kiss.

“It doesn’t seem fair that you’ve got me laid bare while you’re still in those blasted trousers,” Cosette said. “Not to mention the rest.” She waved her hand at Éponine’s chest.

Éponine grinned and shrugged out of the bindings, enjoying the way Cosette watched her. She’d been worried that Cosette saw her as a proxy for the man she’d left at the barricades; if the kiss that afternoon hadn’t rid her of the notion, the way Cosette stared at her tits certainly did. It would be lying to say that in the time they’d spent together she’d never imagined being Cosette’s awakening, in the manner of those novels men seemed so fond of. Éponine had neither been nor slept with a wide-eyed innocent herself, but Cosette was significantly more lustful than the girls in the books, although she had the blushing down pat.

Éponine rested her hands on Cosette’s hips, laying a trail of kisses down her stomach and watching Cosette’s face grow redder than she would have thought possible.

“God, you’re beautiful like this,” Éponine murmured. Whatever Cosette had been about to reply was lost when Éponine moved her kisses to the folds of Cosette’s cunt. Her words changed to cries of pleasure, gradually gaining some sense. She moaned “Don’t stop” as Éponine worked a finger inside of her, “God, Éponine,” as Éponine sucked at her clit, and “I love you!” as she came, tightening her hands in Éponine’s hair.

Later, Éponine would tell herself that it didn’t mean anything. People couldn’t be held accountable for the things they said in the throes of orgasm. For now, she let Cosette’s words flow through her, clinging to them as if she’d never heard professions of love before.

“The floor isn’t terribly comfortable, you know.” Cosette’s face was still flushed a very pleasant pink. “And we do have a perfectly comfortable bed.”

Cosette couldn’t keep her hands off of Éponine as they walked to the bedroom, meaning it took much longer than it should have to reach the comfort of the bed (not that Éponine could say she minded). Once they reached the bedroom, Cosette shoved Éponine onto the mattress, grinning. “It was terribly hard to get my hands on you before.”

Her touch was unpracticed, but incredibly erotic in its enthusiasm. Her fingers brushed over Éponine’s nipple, softly at first but gaining a firm touch. Éponine had never thought her breasts much to look at (much like the rest of her, they were small and unimpressive), but Cosette seemed captivated.

“I don’t know much about this,” Cosette apologized.

“I’m sure you’ll prove a quick study.” Éponine reached for Cosette’s unoccupied hand, guiding it between her legs. “Here, like this. Surely you’ve touched yourself before?” It didn’t occur to her until after asking that pure, perfect Cosette might not have.

“It’s a bit different from this angle.” Cosette frowned at her, but continued her exploration of Éponine’s folds quite skillfully, all the while growing bolder with Éponine’s breasts. She pinched a nipple between her fingers while rubbing a thumb over Éponine’s clit, making Éponine gasp. “Did I hurt you?”

“If I want you to stop, I’ll tell you.” Éponine barely managed to get the words out. She’d hardly allowed herself to imagine what being with Cosette would be like, but even if she’d allowed her fantasies free rein, they couldn’t have matched the reality. If she hadn’t been so thrilled by this fever dream made flesh, she would have felt ashamed at how fast Cosette managed to bring her to orgasm.

Cosette’s face colored when Éponine cried out, “Fuck!”, amusingly enough. She laid her hand on Éponine’s hip, and asked, “Do we stop?”

Éponine couldn’t help but laugh, although she regretted it when Cosette’s face fell. “Oh, I didn’t mean to mock you. There’s no rule regarding the matter, but I for one would like to sleep.”

She couldn’t imagine a happier life than this, falling asleep with Cosette curled against her back.

 

When Éponine awoke the next morning, Cosette was looking at her from across the bed, brow wrinkled with concern.

“Is something the matter?” Did she regret the previous night, or regret Éponine?

“I should visit my father.”

The panic in Éponine’s chest settled to a dull worry, the sort of worry that stuck with her nearly always. “Of course. You could have woken me.”

Cosette shook her head. “You look so beautiful when you sleep that it seemed a shame.”

“You are a shameless flirt.”

Cosette threw the quilt off, ignoring Éponine’s protests. “You won’t be so cold if you get dressed.”

If Éponine had known what was coming, she might have stayed in bed. She knew that avoiding the world wouldn’t make its cruelty any less sharp, but nothing seemed so unjust as the way fate was to take a torch to their happiness. Looking back, their jokes and laughter as they walked to the Rue Plumet seemed a mockery of what was about to happen.

The house was empty when they arrived. Cosette knocked, and peered through the windows, and waved a handkerchief in the direction of her father’s bedroom, to no avail.

Éponine was the first of them to see Marius, leaning on a cane in a nearby alley. His eyes glanced over Éponine, giving only the briefest acknowledgement, before coming to rest on Cosette.

He shouted her name, making his way towards them as quickly as he could manage. “Forgive the familiarity. I’ve been here every day, looking for you.”

He looked like he should be in bed, Éponine thought. Judging by the concern on her face, Cosette had the same thought. “You’ve spoken to my father, then?”

“Oh, Cosette.” Marius waited until he reached them to continue, taking her hand in his. “He died, a week ago yesterday. But before he passed he entrusted your care to me. You can come home with me to Grandfather’s until we have time to prepare the house after the wedding.”

“The wedding?”

Marius evidently took Cosette’s confusion for something else, as he leaned in and kissed her. Cosette’s eyes widened, and she pulled back.

“I can’t marry you.”

He looked like nothing so much as a kicked puppy staring at its master, too foolish to understand why anyone would hurt it. “Your father came to the barricade to bring me back to you. I’ve prepared a room at my grandfather’s house. Of course we can put off the wedding until you’ve had time to mourn—”

“I won’t want to marry you any more in a month, or a year.” Cosette had tears in her eyes.

“You told me you loved me!” And Marius began to cry as well. God help her, Éponine would like as not drown in the tears of the innocent tonight.

“I thought I did. But things have changed…I’m sorry.”

Éponine had known Marius long enough to have some idea of what was coming, although she’d never seen him bawl this hard before. (She should be kinder, part of her said. He’d lost friends at the barricades as well.)

“You’re all I have left.”

Cosette squeezed his hand. “And you can talk to me, or Éponine, any time. I’ll make sure to tell you where we live.”

Éponine had wondered how long it would take for Marius to realize that she was part of the reason Cosette was breaking off the engagement. He was a romantic, true, but he was also oblivious to anything outside of his idea of society and love. If she wasn’t mistaken, the nature of their relationship had just dawned on him. (Sooner than she’d expected it to, in all honesty.)

Marius nodded stiffly, and lifted Cosette’s hand to kiss it. “You’re welcome to call on me as well, of course. I’ll leave you to mourn in peace.”

After the exchange of addresses and the transfer of keys, Marius went on his way and Cosette looked horribly, painfully lost.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” she said to Éponine, despair in her voice.

“Love is hurt,” Éponine replied. “You can’t protect Pontmercy from all the pain of the world.”

“I’d hoped that when I returned home I could break it to him more gently, and discuss matters with my father…” She trailed off, beginning to cry again. “That…that bitch promised me she would protect Papa. I’m going to find her and make her pay.”

She sounded both everything and nothing like the Cosette Éponine knew when she was angry. The sharpness of her words seemed to crackle through the air like lightning, making Éponine’s hair stand on end. “I’ll be at your side.”

 

Back through the winding streets of not-quite-Paris they went, Éponine following Cosette blindly and hoping she was as confident in her path as she looked. To Éponine, everything looked the same, a maze of dark alleys with malevolent shadows lurking at their corners.

They found the staircase at the end of an entirely different alleyway than their last visit (although why Éponine expected logic from these streets, she couldn’t say). Cosette forced the door open, face pale with rage. “You lied to me!”

The woman was calmer in the face of Cosette’s rage than Éponine could ever be. “You should know I can’t lie to you, ma belle. Your father is alive and well—ask around for Tholomyès, I’m sure you’ll find him. As for the man you called Papa…well, you should really learn to phrase your requests more carefully. It was touching how much he was willing to sacrifice for you.”

The stone that they’d seen so much of began to glow. The glint caught Cosette’s eye, and she let out an unearthly scream. Éponine covered her face before she knew what was happening. It took a moment to realize that what had startled her was shards of glass flying through the air: every last piece of glass in the room (and there was plenty, jars upon jars of strange substances lining every wall) seemed to have shattered. The woman was on the ground against the wall, something like fear in her eyes.

Cosette walked up to her. “I swear on my mother’s soul that I’ll be back for you.”

In response, the woman grinned. Cosette took Éponine by the arm (now bleeding from a dozen small cuts) and dragged her from the house.

“A little warning might have been nice,” Éponine said once they’d started down the winding alleys, dabbing at her arms with the hem of her shirt.

Cosette smiled faintly, but her eyes were far away.

Éponine took her hand. “What’s the matter? What did she tell you?”

She scowled. “We have to find the bastard that knocked up my mother.”

Of everything she’d seen these past few weeks, this was the most frightening by far. Éponine had never heard Cosette sound so bitter, even at her most ferocious. Her voice was threaded through with a hatred that Éponine had thought she’d avoided. It wasn’t right, that Cosette should have cause to feel such anger. Éponine pushed down the ridiculous desire to protect her. “I didn’t know you knew him.”

She shook her head. “He left before I was born, but I cajoled Papa into telling me about him long ago. I wanted a knight who’d been slain while boldly fighting injustice, and instead I was left with a coward who abandoned my mother before she even began to show.”

“You don’t need to talk to him, just because he shares your blood—”

“Don’t you see? He must be…like that woman. Like me. How else would I have ended up like this?” Cosette’s step faltered. “My mother was human, so my father must have been strange like me.” She sighed in frustration. “If I had the choice I’d do everything in my power to avoid him, but he might be my only chance at helping Papa.”

Éponine recognized the pain in Cosette’s eyes as the same sort that tore through Éponine whenever she recognized in herself her father’s cunning, or her mother’s anger. “Let’s find the bastard, then.”

 

As it turned out, although Cosette was quite prepared to track her father down, she had no idea where he might be. Luckily, Éponine knew just the sorts of people who might associate with him. The next day, she prepared to sniff this Tholomyès out by whatever methods necessary.

She hadn’t expected Cosette to want to come with her.

“This is my problem, and I’m not leaving you to fix it.”

 _They’ll eat you alive_ , Éponine nearly said. Instead, she decided on, “My friend’s a different sort of person than you’re used to.”

“I stabbed a woman to death a few nights ago, Éponine. Do you truly think this is anything I can’t handle?”

“Thieves and thugs won’t dissolve into seafoam when you stab them,” Éponine replied, but she knew she was defeated. “Just don’t let him intimidate you. There’s nothing he likes more than frightening pretty young women.” She shuddered to think what Montparnasse would make of Cosette, but these past few days had taught Éponine not to come between Cosette and her desire for vengeance.

 

Montparnasse grinned when he saw her, the same grin Éponine had seen him direct at so many more of his intended conquests. “Who’ve you brought to see me, ‘Ponine?”

He reached out a hand for Cosette, and Éponine had her knife out and directed at him before he could blink. Moments later, he jerked his hand back, rubbing at it resentfully. Éponine could swear she’d seen a crackle of light fly from Cosette’s hand to his, but damned if she would draw attention to these strange powers in Montparnasse’s earshot.

“All right, hands to myself,” he said, looking between the two of them. “Am I at least allowed to ask her name?”

“I’m Cosette. And I’m looking for Tholomyès. Do you know where I could find him?”

Montparnasse laughed. “What’s a girl like you doing with a man like him? Let me guess—you’re pregnant.”

Her expression didn’t waver. “He’s my father. We have some unfinished business to take care of.”

“Don’t tease, ‘Parnasse,” Éponine said warningly. “Surely you’ve seen him around.”

“At the Cock and Bottle.” Montparnasse raised an eyebrow at her. “Have you found a lady love? I never thought I’d see the day.”

 It seemed Cosette could withstand all manner of insults to her dignity, but the mention of their relationship was enough to paint her face scarlet. Éponine tugged at Montparnasse’s cravat. “What did I say about teasing?”

He adjusted his collar, sulking. “Whatever you say. Don’t tell him it was me sent you.”

 

From the hatred in Cosette’s voice when she talked about him, Tholomyès should have looked like a monster. Instead, he looked for all the world like an ordinary man, laughing with his friends over a mug of beer. 

“I’m busy tonight, girl,” he said when he saw Cosette staring at him.

She smiled, suddenly looking terrifyingly pleasant. “Not too busy to meet your daughter, I hope.” With a swipe of her hand, she conjured up a blast of air to set his mug shaking.

He grinned, the twist of his lips mirroring Cosette’s in a way that made Éponine’s guts twist. “Who bore you? I thought I’d kept track of all my brats.”

“My mother was Fantine.”

 Tholomyès laughed, and while Éponine could barely keep from walking out of her place in a shadowy corner to take her fist to his face, Cosette kept on smiling. “Small wonder you take after me—your mother had more tits than brain. Jacques bet me a year of service that I couldn’t seduce her without the help of a handsome human form.” For a moment, his hairline receded and his teeth went crooked. “He regretted that when I set him to cleaning my stables. A night would have been enough, but she was too foolish to leave. If I’d known she was pregnant, I might have kept an eye on her after I left for home. How did she end up?”

“Dead, when I was young.” Cosette shrugged. “I barely knew her.”

“No great loss.”

She sat beside him. “Do you come to the city often?”

He laughed again. “Tell me what you want, daughter. I might be persuaded to grant you a favor if you don’t cling to your mortal pleasantries.”

“There’s a woman who’s crossed me—short, big grin, penchant for collecting mortal souls. I’m looking to repay her.”

Tholomyès slapped her on the back. “Oh, how diverting! I know just who you mean. Is she still living in that filthy hovel under her tree?” He barely waited for Cosette to nod before going on. “Luckily for you, I know her true name, and I’m willing to give it to you without a price. Come here.” He whispered something in her ear, too low for Éponine to make out. “Tell her Tholomyès sent you.”

Cosette beamed at him. “I appreciate the gift.” Her father went back to his beer, and Cosette strode out the door, more confident than Éponine had ever seen her. Éponine gave it plenty of time before leaving herself, making sure not to steal a glance at Tholomyes on her way out.

They’d planned a meeting place, although when Éponine reached the (entirely empty) square, she didn’t blame Cosette for forgetting. She found Cosette at home (what a marvel, that these rooms had so quickly become _home_ ), facedown on the bed and sobbing. Éponine sat down beside her, laying a hand on her back.

“He’s disgusting,” Cosette said, curling up onto her side to face Éponine. “What does that make me?”

“Another daughter who hates her father.” Éponine gestured to herself. “You’re certainly not the only one.”

“Your parents gave you a name, and nothing else.” She wiped at her face. He gave me this world full of monsters, and I’m sure I’m becoming one.”

“You think I don’t hate myself every time I pick a lock or lift a purse?” Éponine brushed a tear from Cosette’s cheek. “You do what it takes to survive, and you don’t hurt people unless you have to.” She laid down beside Cosette. “I can tell you that you’re nothing like him.”

Cosette leaned forward to kiss her. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

To her embarrassment, Éponine felt a blush spread across her face. “What did he mean about her true name?”

“The name he told me felt powerful,” Cosette replied, seemingly distracted from Éponine’s inopportune show of emotion. “She’ll listen to me if I call her by name.”

“We walk in with just a name, then?”

Éponine had no trust in Tholomyès, but the confidence in Cosette’s face dispelled all her doubts.

“It will work,” Cosette said. “I’m not sure how, but it will work.”

 

That past night, Éponine had felt nothing but trust in Cosette’s plan, but come morning reality struck her. They were preparing to walk into enemy territory, armed with nothing but a few knives and a name. Not that it mattered; Éponine would follow Cosette into hell if she asked. Éponine only wished it wasn’t necessary. (A small and guilty part of her wished that Cosette was as selfish as she was, that they could go back to their rooms and forget all about this woman’s room full of roots and stone full of souls.)

The streets unfolded for Cosette like the Red Sea parting, laying the secrets of this city-within-a-city bare. Éponine trailed behind her, feeling uncomfortably out of place. The streets that led Cosette on seemed to repel her, and every alley bristled with menace.

When they reached their destination, the door swung open under Cosette’s touch, and a sound like a dozen locks clicking open filled the air.

“Melisende!” Cosette shouted. Éponine understood, then, why Cosette had such confidence in the name Tholomyes had given her. The word flew through the air like a bullet, making Éponine’s hair stand on end.

“What do you want, girl?” The woman looked crumpled somehow, folded in on herself. Her smile—sneer, now—shone less brightly, and her back was stooped.

“You have something that belongs to me.” Cosette held out her hand. “Bring me my family.”

Melisende slunk to the table that held the stone, then dropped it grudgingly into Cosette’s palm. “I only took what they gave me.”

Cosette, peering into the stone, didn’t seem to hear her. “Papa?” she whispered.

A cloud of fog emerged from the stone, slowly forming itself into a familiar man. “Cosette!” Monsieur Fauchelevent’s eyes crinkled as he smiled.

“What did you do?” Cosette moved her free hand to touch him, only for it to drift through his chest.

“Don’t cry over me, love. I’ve already been given so much more than I deserved in this life, and you deserve every chance at happiness.” He glanced at Melisende. “I knew when she came to me that she could save Marius. He’s a good man, Cosette. You’ll be happy together. You don’t need an old man chaining you to your past.”

Cosette looked at Éponine, then back to her father, shaking her head. “I love you, Papa.”

“You’re the greatest blessing of my life. “Please, don’t hold yourself back to mourn me.” With that, he faded away.

Éponine waited for Cosette to turn her attention back to Melisende, but she remained mesmerized by the stone. Soon, Éponine saw why—another figure began to emerge, and once it had fully taken form, Éponine recognized in the curve of the figure’s jaw and the tilt of her smile echoes of Cosette.

“I…Mama?”

“Oh, cherie.” The apparition smiled, reaching a hand out to trace Cosette’s face.

“You shouldn’t have done this. What did she promise you, to trap you like this?”

“She showed me the true nature of the monsters I’d left you with, and swore to me that you would be happy. All I had to do was make her a promise. And I would do it all over again.”

Tears streamed down Cosette’s face. “Mama, I’ve met someone. I think I’m in love.”

Fantine’s eyes met Éponine’s knowingly. “I know, darling. I’m so happy for you. Promise me that you’ll love with all your heart.”

“I will, I promise.” Cosette reached out just as her mother’s image scattered. Her face hardened, and there was no hint of sorrow when she turned to Melisende. Wrath making her face shine like an avenging angel, she hurled the stone to the ground. As it shattered, countless wispy forms scattered from its shards. Éponine recognized the man from the bridge and a small figure that looked terrifyingly like her brother before the crowd grew too thick to make out individual forms.

Melisende fell to her knees, and in that moment, she looked ancient. She hissed words in a language Éponine couldn’t understand, with a bottomless hatred in her eyes.

“You will _never_ interfere in the lives of those I care about again,” Cosette said. “If I have cause to visit you again, I swear that you’ll regret it.”

With that, they left, neither one looking back.

 

The moment they stepped into the city proper and out of the ever-shifting alleys of not-quite-Paris, Cosette gasped and staggered. Éponine took her by the waist, letting Cosette lean on her.

“Let me get you home,” Éponine said in response to Cosette’s protests. “It’s the least I can do.”

After an eternity of stumbling through the streets, they reached their apartment. Éponine half expected to find the rooms charred to ash, but it seemed Melisende was held to her bargains no matter how much she hated the recipients.

Cosette collapsed onto the bed, and immediately began to talk. “I have to talk to Marius. He seemed positively despondent, and I can’t just abandon him like this. And Tholomyès—how can I let him walk away from what he did to my mother? I have to—”

Éponine shushed her, pressing a kiss to her lips. “We can handle that tomorrow. Tonight, you need to sleep.”

“But…”

Éponine kissed her again. “For God’s sake, rest. Can you even stand right now?”

Cosette sheepishly shook her head. “You’re right, I suppose.”

“I usually am.”

Although she couldn’t keep those same worries from buzzing at the back of her mind that night, Éponine tried to push them away and focus on the warmth of Cosette in her arms, the beating of their hearts. There would be plenty of time tomorrow to go looking for trouble. Tonight, she was going to cling to this fragile peace.


End file.
